Network and cable television channels are filled with reality television programs. There are shows about Alaskan truck drivers, loggers, moonshiners, alligator trappers, people who try to choose a girlfriend, people who try to choose a boyfriend, couples who race each other around the world and contestants who voluntarily strand themselves deserted islands and stab each other in the back. There are also shows about housewives in Atlanta, New York, Los Angeles who stab each other in the back. A few of the shows are about strangers who live together in one house and stab each other in the back. There’s a lot of back stabbing in reality television.
Everything I know about reality television I have learned through promos and commercials. I don’t watch reality television. I don’t need it. My wife and I are raising two teenagers seven days a week. I am living a 24-hour daily reality show and I am the commercial that pays for it all.
A few mornings each week I walk across the street from my office and have breakfast at the French bakery. There are a group of men who eat there most mornings. That, my friends, is a reality show.
If you know television producers who are searching for new reality television programming, tell them to look no farther than C’est la Vie Bakery on Hardy Street in Hattiesburg. They can call the show “Morning Men,” 22 minutes of the best breakfast table conversation on the planet, and croissants, too.
The morning men at C’est la Vie are a diverse group. We have a politician who is also a geologist, a former district attorney/state legislator to whom the group defers on legal matters, an expatriated Cajun traveling salesman who is full of stories and never short on opinions, a Harvard-educated lawyer and part-time environmental activist, a retired military officer and former federal bureaucrat, a ex-restaurateur turned real estate investor, a retired university professor who works on a novel during breakfast (how he gets any work done over the volume of conversation is baffling), a couple of business owners, and a few people around the periphery who show up infrequently of which I am one. This all takes place in a bakery run by a French- Polish chef who has an affinity for Euro disco and accordion music. Move over Duck Dynasty, the Morning Men have arrived.
The beauty of this format as a television program is that the conversation changes every day. Conversation over breakfast is different than conversation over lunch or dinner. Lunch seems to have more of a purpose. Something occurred before you arrived for lunch and things are scheduled after lunch. Dinner is about winding down at the end of a day. Breakfast gives the promise of a new day. It’s fresh. Opportunities await and the potential is endless.
Morning men see each other several times during the week, sometimes every day. They know each other. Familiarity breeds good breakfast conversation.
It helps if several members of the group support rival football teams, which makes the conversation even more impassioned. My group doesn’t get into sports too often. Politics is the primary focus, and while there isn’t a huge disparity of political opinion, what they lack in policy range they make up with in passion. Storytelling plays a large role, too.
Every town has morning men. If there is a politician in the group, he is going to catch flack from others in the group— book it. Taxes are the main offender.
Morning men always have an opinion. They like structure and schedules. It’s usually the same guy sitting in the same spot, even in the same chair, eating the same thing.
I am not sure about morning women. I sometimes see a group of ladies meeting when I join my mother for breakfast on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They are sweet, but they are also quiet and polite. Quiet and polite doesn’t make good television. Morning men are never quiet and have no problem being impolite.
Every town has morning men. They are the guys— usually from varied backgrounds— who gather over coffee and politics every morning. Whenever I am out of town I always ask the front desk clerk at the hotel where the best local breakfast joint is located. That is where I want to eat breakfast in that town. That is where I am going to learn about the town and its people.
Cancel your cable subscription. Find the local breakfast joint in your town. Sit with the morning men for about 20 minutes. It’s entertaining, it’s informative, and it’s real. Good stuff, that.
1 /3 cup Butter, melted
3 /4 cup Brown sugar
2 Tbl Honey
2 Tbl Pecans, chopped (optional)
2 Tbl Almonds, slivered and blanched (optional)
8 Sourdough bread croutons, cut into 1-inch thick rounds
2 /3 cup Milk
1 /4 cup Heavy cream
1 /8 tsp Cinnamon
1 /8 tsp Nutmeg
1 Tbl Vanilla
1 Tbl Amaretto
Sourdough bread croutons should be cut out of a baguette-style bread loaf. Slices should be one inch thick.
In a cast iron skillet, combine butter, brown sugar and honey over medium-high heat. Cook mixture, stirring constantly until bubbly and sugar has dissolved. Add nuts. Pour Brulee into the bottom of a round, two-quart Pyrex baking dish. Allow Brulee to cool slightly then top with the sourdough bread croutons.
In a large mixing bowl whisk eggs, milk, heavy cream, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla and Amaretto. Pour mixture evenly over the croutons. Using the tips of your fingers, press bread down gently to force custard into croutons without breaking. Cover dish with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Allow custard to come to room temperature one hour before baking. Bake uncovered until bread is puffed and edges of croutons are golden brown, (approximately 40 minutes). Place a plate on top of the baking dish. Using dish towels or pot holders, invert dish onto a plate. Top with powdered sugar. Yield: four to six servings